Seeds of Doubt
by NicoleMack
Summary: Beckett deals with the consequences of her actions. A spoilerfic for 5x05 Probable Cause.


Seeds of Doubt  
by Nicolemack

AN: This is a spec fic, based on the promo, sneak peeks and photos for 5x05 "Probable Cause." This is going to be _so_ far from canon in a couple of hours, which is why I had to finish and post it before that was the case. It'd be cool if this _is_ what happened, though!

Yesterday, she cried tears of fear, of doubt, of pain.

Yesterday, she didn't care who saw her tears.

Yesterday, she made the most harrowing decision of the past five months.

Yesterday, she arrested her boyfriend on suspicion of murder.

She didn't want to believe it, but there was too much evidence to support the suspicion. His fingerprints were at the crime scene, he had a connection to the victim, and then there was his evasiveness about his whereabouts on Friday night.

That was the thing that hurt the most. When he'd left the precinct that Friday afternoon, he quietly confirmed their dinner plans: he'd pick up take-out and be at her place by seven. She'd nodded, smiled that glowing smile, and shook his hand, as had become their habit of late.

A mere thirty minutes later, he called to cancel, simply saying something urgent had come up, but he'd see her tomorrow. And it's not that she was upset then. Yes, they were dating, and had been spending time together regularly and often since that first night in May, but it's not like they were joined at the hip. They still spent just as many nights apart as they did together. He had his writing, his poker games, his family. She had her Dad, her friends, her blissfully quiet apartment. So yes, at the time she was a little disappointed, but didn't think anything of it.

But then yesterday happened, and it all blew up in her face. She questioned him about it. She needed specifics, but he refused to give them. She couldn't pull rank as his girlfriend, since they were in the interrogation room where they were not only being watched, but recorded as well. They were at an impasse, and it was in that moment that the seeds of doubt grew like weeds, sprouting betrayal in their eyes and blocking the light of truth from seeping through the cracks.

She was trying to fight for him, but the more he refused to explain, the more the doubts crept in. She could _not_ believe him capable of committing such a heinous crime, not in actuality. But she'd read all of his novels. _All of them_, and she knew he had enough imagination to come up with the idea. And that was why she couldn't, no matter how much she wanted to, trust him on pure, blind faith.

They had sat in the interrogation room, staring silently at one another. Their eyes conveying everything they were thinking, conveying all the pain, all the pleading.

"Do you believe me?" he'd begged her in a strangled voice.

"I want to, but the evidence…" she trailed off, unwilling, unable to complete the sentence.

He stared at her for long, tense moments, then finally spoke. "I think I'd like my lawyer now."

She gave a single nod as the lump in her throat grew, strangling her, preventing her from taking a breath. She snatched up her folder and flew out of the room without a backwards glance. She headed straight for her desk, barely paused to grab her keys and jacket, and continued on towards the elevator.

Ryan flew out of the observation room, chasing after her. "Beckett…"

She couldn't face him, couldn't see the sympathy she was sure was shining in his eyes. She punched the elevator button, and spoke through the lump still present in her throat. "Get his lawyer here, ok?" The doors slid open, and she hesitated a moment. In a show of sympathy for the man she loved, she continued, "And don't let Espo in there with him."

The drive to his loft was a battle in not letting go. She had to do her job, she had to do everything she could to get rid of the doubt, and there was no time for tears.

She knocked on his door, for the first time knowing that he would not be the one to answer, that she was not there for dinner, or for his company, or for his love. She stood there, afraid of the reception she would receive; she knew she could be the devil incarnate to them right now. The door swung open, and Martha was there, he eyes red, her face breaking into relief. And that's when she couldn't hold back any longer. The dam burst, and Kate Beckett collapsed into Martha Rodgers' arms, a stream of words escaping as she sought comfort from his mother.

"Tell me he didn't do it. Please Martha, he couldn't do it, right? I want to believe him, I want to know that I was right about him, I want to know he's not hiding anything from me."

Martha led her over to the couch and sat her down, handing her the box of tissues that she'd left on the coffee table.

"Kate, if there's anything I know about my son, it's that his imagination is larger than life. He dreams up the most bizarre things, whether it's a new breakfast recipe, a new game to play with Alexis, or a new way to kill a victim in his novels. But the man I raised, the son I have loved more than anyone else in this world, would never, _could never_, actually do what he writes."

The tears were still trickling down her face as Kate replied, "But the evidence…"

"Oh Kate, how often have you found the evidence leading you in the wrong direction? You know, better than anyone, that the evidence is not the whole story. You also know my son. And let's not forget how you two met. That first case, where _more than one_ victim was killed just like in his novels, yet you never suspected him then. You never once considered that he might have decided writing about it wasn't enough. What's so different now?"

Kate managed to pull herself together enough to question Martha about the loft and who might have had access aside from her and Alexis. Then, fortified by Martha's faith in her ability to clear his name, she returned to the precinct to continue the search for an alternate suspect, an alternate explanation.

And she'd found it. Which is how she'd ended up here, standing next to Castle on the Tappan Zee Bridge, following a car chase and a stand-off with the real killer, ending with the sound of a single gunshot.

The relief washed over her like a tidal wave, overwhelming her senses, and it was all she could do to stand there, her gun held limply in her hand, her eyes fixed on the bitumen at her feet. The tears flowed freely, and she shuddered with sobs, until she felt his hand on her wrist, shockingly gentle. She fell into him, wrapping one arm around his waist, her hand fisting his jacket fiercely.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wanted to believe you. I wanted to let you go. I did, I swear. But I had to do my job, and Espo wouldn't stop pushing about the evidence and… Castle… I have never hated my job more than I have for the past two days."

She felt his arm settle hesitantly around her shoulders, his other hand still occupied with her extra weapon. She felt his sucking in slow, deep breaths, and she knew he was trying to stay calm. She refused to let go, to look up and see the hurt in his eyes.

"I'm not going to say it's ok. Ok is so far from the truth right now. I understand that you had to do your job, but it still hurts to know that you don't trust me. I want this to work, Kate. I _need_ this to work. I can't bear the idea of losing you. If you want the same thing, then we need to trust each other. We need to be honest, and we need to believe that we are speaking the truth."

Kate shuffled closer, tightening her arm around his waist as another sob shuddered through her body. "I can't lose you, Castle."

He pulled his arm back from her shoulders and gently wrapped his hand around the base of her neck, pushing her away so he could see her face. "You're not going to lose me. In spite of everything that's just happened, I still love you, Kate."

She pursed her lips, biting back another sob of relief, letting the tears continue down her face. And while this was not the setting she had imagined when she spoke these words, while it lacked all the romance, all the intimacy of being in a private room, she knew these words were more necessary than ever. She released her hold of his waist and slipped her hand up over his chest to settle on his face, gently tracing the skin around the gash on his cheek. She sucked in a deep breath, kept her watery gaze on his, and gave him the words he needed to hear.

"I love you, too."


End file.
